Ace in the Hole
by Rougeification
Summary: 1916: A re-imagining of Lanoe Hawker's heroic death at the hands of the legendary Red Baron on the battlefield of World War 1. For the Wigtown Wanderers in Round 3.


The plane shuddered as explosions deafened around me. I pulled my head down and covered my ears out of plain instinct from the closeness of the noise. In my haste, however, I had neglected the suspension of the aircraft, and quickly scrambled to pull it up. I yelled out in frustration as adrenaline burst throughout my veins; the ground was getting closer, the plane was plummeting faster-

I pulled up just in time, the bottom of my plane scraping the ground as I gasped from sheer relief - I shouldn't have survived that. I cannot believe I'm still alive!

I saw another plane, a larger one, drenched in red and roaring as it swung through the sky like some hefty eagle. My mouth opened in shock - it was him.

It was the Red Baron.

I spun around in my vessel, ducking cursing to myself as the bullets riddled around my craft. I then pulled back on the stick, shooting up into the air. I glanced around to see the Red Baron just about to do the same, and then I crossed my heart.

I thought of my little brother, Francis, who was just about to enter the Royal Military Academy. He was so inspired by my flying, it became what he wanted to do as well. A scrawny lad with sandy brown hair...

I thought about my wife-to-be, Eleanor, and how beautiful she was; Eleanor's chestnut curls, almond-shaped eyes, the single dimple that creased in her left cheek when she gave me that goofy smile. She'd always get angry with me for saying 'goofy'.

I thought about my father, and how proud he was when I joined the RAF. He had looked me in the eye and told me it was the single most proud moment in his entire life. And that was all I wanted - to make my dad proud.

I pulled down my _Albatros_, lunging down towards him, eyes focused on my targeting reticule - if I could just get him in my sights...

I spun around from the wide hail of bullets, as if my thoughts of my family were protecting me from them. I yelled as I began firing bullets at the Baron until there were no more. I knew what I had to do - only one of us could to survive this...

And it wasn't going to be me.

I closed my eyes gently, thinking about Eleanor... just having her in my arms again. In that moment, everything felt fine - I knew I was going to die, but not for glory, and not for my country... but for her. I was dying to protect her.

Our planes littered the dirt, the Baron's aircraft torn to pieces with sparce fires starting. My plane, however, was mostly intact, apart from a gun being torn off and snapped apart on the ground like a branch from a willow tree.

I let out a chuckle as I checked my body - I was completely unharmed... I survived it all! I laughed to myself loudly - I had just killed the Red Baron! That is twice today I should've died... Wait until I tell Francis about this one...

I stop laughing. I hear something... a creaking. I look to my right and see a man wrench his way out of the wreckage: his nose is stuck at an angle, with blood pouring from his eyebrow. He was clad in a leather ebony coat that reached his boots, which were also wrapped in dark leather. I growled to myself - the Fritz was still alive!

His ran a hand through his dark coif hair and his eyes cocked over towards me, looking at him from my plane.

I lost focus for a moment as he raised his hand - a small stick held in his hand. At first I thought it was a gun, then I began to narrow my eyes in suspicion... it was a twig?

The Fritz spoke a Latin-esque incantation, and in a dash, my plane began to smoke; I couldn't pull up, I couldn't... I just couldn't do anything! I hopelessly tried to take off and soar in the plane, but to no avail. I closed my eyes - I had flown in this plane since I had first been honoured as a flying ace. Now, I had to abandon it.

I unbuckled myself and pulled myself out of my seat, landing clumsily on the dirt as I began to stand up. I looked over to the Fritz, who's stick was threateningly pointed at me.

"Am I to pick up my own?" I asked mockingly.

"Geh aud die Knie." He ordered, spitting blood out of his mouth. I raised an eyebrow.

"What are you going to do? Stab me with a twig?" I asked mockingly.

"Britische verdammte Muggel..." the Baron growled lowly.

"Muggel?" I asked, repeating the word. "Not the faintest idea what you're talking about Fritz."

"Rufen Sie mich nicht 'Fritz'!" He shouted, stick held at my forehead as he grabbed my neck. "Sie sollten in London übernachtet habe..."

"London?" I asked, recognizing the one word. "I'm from Hampshire."

The Baron shook his head as he took a step back.

"Wiedersehen Engländer. Sag hallo zu Gott für mich; Bin bald entsenden mehr aus." He brought the stick back like a fishing hook, then shot it towards me - his coat billowed back from the wind, green lightning erupted from the twig as it crackled through the night air towards me, electrifying every singular cell within my body. I could feel it wrap around me and the pain coarse through me, but I thought of Eleanor. She was so beautiful, and so compassionate. With our baby boy - they were both worth dying for. I had no regrets.

The lightning fizzled and I slumped back into the ground, groaning to myself. I looked up at the Red Baron, who's wand was pointed at me again.

"Do it." I instructed him. "I won't beg." He pointed his wand at my chest.

"Avada Kedavra!"


End file.
